ly.

Malone felt instantly jealous of every nice young man he had ever even
heard of. _He_ wasn't a nice young man; he was an FBI agent, and he
liked to drink and smoke cigars and carouse.

All nice young men, he decided, should be turned into ugly old men as
soon as possible. That'd fix them!

He noticed the little old lady smiling at him, and tried to change his
thoughts rapidly. But the little old lady said nothing at all.

"At any rate," Barbara said, "I'm afraid that we just can't--"

Dr. Harman cleared his throat imperiously. It was a most impressive
noise, and everyone turned to look at him. His face was a little gray,
but he looked, otherwise, like a rather pudgy, blond, crew-cut Roman
emperor.

"Just a moment," he said with dignity, "I think you're doing the United
States of America a grave injustice, Miss Wilson--and that you're doing
an injustice to Miss Thompson, too."

"What do you mean?" she said.

"I think it would be nice for her to get away from me--I mean from
here," the psychiatrist said. "Where did you say you were taking her?"
he asked Malone.

"Yucca Flats," Malone said.

"Ah." The news seemed to please the psychiatrist. "That's a long
distance from here, isn't it? It's quite a few hundred miles away.
Perhaps even a few thousand miles away. I feel sure that will be the
best thing for me ... I mean, of course, for Miss Thompson. I shall
recommend that the court so order."

"Doctor--" But even Barbara saw, Malone could tell, that it was no good
arguing with Dr. Harman. She tried a last attack. "Doctor, who's going
to take care of her?"

A light the size and shape of North America burst in Malone's mind. He
almost chortled. But he managed to keep his voice under control. "What
she needs," he said, "is a trained psychiatric nurse."

Barbara Wilson gave him a look that had carloads of U{235} stacked away
in it, but Malone barely minded. She'd get over it, he told himself.

"Now, wasn't that sweet of you to think of that," the little old lady
said. Malone looked at her and was rewarded with another wink.

"I'm certainly glad you thought of Barbara," the little old lady went
on. "You will go with me won't you, dear? I'll make you a duchess.
Wouldn't you like to be a duchess, dear?"

Barbara looked from Malone to the little old lady, and then she looked
at Dr. Harman. Apparently what she saw failed to make her happy.

"We'll take good care of her, Barbara," Malone said.

She didn't e